THE SPECTATOR.

No. 417.] Saturday, June 28, 1712. [Addison.

Quem tu Melpomene semel

Nascentem placido famine videris,
Non ilium labor Isthmius
Clarabit pugilem, non equus impiger, &c.
Sed qua Tibur aqua fertile perfluunt,
Et Spissrc nemorum coma
Fingent Aiolio carmine nobilem. Hor.

may observe, that any single Circumstance of what we

WE have formerly seen often raises up a whole Scene of
Imagery, and awakens [numberless 1] Ideas that before slept in
the Imagination ; such a particular Smell or Colour is able to
fill the Mind, on a sudden, with the Picture of the Fields or
Gardens, where we first met with and to bring up into View
it,

all the Variety of Images that once attended Our Imagin

it.

ation takes the Hint, and leads us unexpectedly into Cities or

Theatres, Plains or Meadows. We may further observe, when
the Fancy thus reflects on the Scenes that have past in
it

formerly, those which were at first pleasant to behold, appear

more so upon Reflection, and that the Memory heightens the
Delightfulness of the Original. A Cartesian would account
for both these Instances in the following Manner.
The Sett of Ideas, which we received from such a Prospect
or Garden, having entered the Mind at the same time, have
a

Sett of Traces belonging to them in the Brain, bordering very

near upon one another; when, therefore, any one of these
Ideas arises in the Imagination, and consequently dispatches a
flow of Animal Spirits to its proper Trace, these Spirits, in the
Violence of their Motion, run not only into the Trace, to which
they were more particularly directed, but into several of those
1

[a

Thousand]
2 THE SPECTATOR.
that lie about it : By this means they awaken other Ideas of
the same Sett, which immediately determine a new Dispatch of
Spirits, that in the same manner open other Neighbouring
Traces, till at last the whole Sett of them is blown up, and the
whole Prospect or Garden flourishes in the Imagination. But
because the Pleasure we received from these Places far sur
mounted, and overcame the little Disagreeablcness we found in
them ; for this Reason there was at first a wider Passage worn
in the Pleasure Traces, and, on the contrary, so narrow a one
in those which belonged to the disagreeable Ideas, that they
were quickly stopt up, and rendered incapable of receiving- any
Animal Spirits, and consequently of exciting any unpleasant
Ideas in the Memory.
It would be in vain to enquire, whether the Power of Im
agining Things strongly proceeds from any greater Perfection
in the Soul, or from any nicer Texture in the Brain of one Man
than of another. But this is certain, that a noble Writer should
be born with this Faculty in its full Strength and Vigour, so as
to be able to receive lively Ideas from outward Objects, to
retain them long, and to range them together, upon Occasion, in
such Figures and Representations as are most likely to hit the
Fancy of the Reader. A Poet should take as much Pains in
forming his Imagination, as a Philosopher in cultivating his
Understanding. He must gain a due Relish of the Works of
Nature, and be thoroughly conversant in the various Scepary
of a Country Life.
When he is stored with Country Images, if he would go
beyond Pastoral, and the lower kinds of Poetry, he ought to
acquaint himself with the Pomp and Magnificence of Courts.
He should be yery well' versed in every thing that is noble and
stately in the Productions of Art, whether it appear in Painting
or Statuary, in the great Works of Architecture which are in
their present Glory, or in the Ruins of those [which 1] flourished
in former Ages.
Such Advantages as these help to open a Man's Thoughts,
and to enlarge his Imagination, and will therefore have their
Influence on all kinds of Writing, if the Author knows how tq
make right use of them. And among those of the learned
Languages who excel in this Talent, the most perfect in their
several kinds, are perhaps Homer, Virgil, and Ovid. The first
strikes the Imagination wonderfully with what is Great, the
second with what is Beautiful, and the last with what is Strange.
Reading the Iliad is like travelling through a Country unin
habited, where the Fancy i; entertained with a thousand Savage
1
[that]
 THE SPECTATQR. 3

Prospects of vas,t Dlesarts, wide uncultivated Marshes, huge

Forests, mis-shapeii Rocks and Precipices. On the contrary,
the <Eneid is like a well ordered Garden, where it is impossible
to find out any Part unadorned, or to cast pur Eyes upon a
single Spot, that does not produce some beautiful Plant or
Flower. But when we are in the Metamorphoses, we are
walking on enchanted Ground, and see nothing but Scenes of
Magick lying round us.
Homer is in his Province, when he is describing a Battel or
a Multitude, a Heroe or a God. Virgil is never better pleased,
than when he is in his Elysium, or copying out an entertaining
Picture. Homer's Epithets generally mark out what is Great,
Virgil's what is Agreeable. Nothing can be more Magnificent
than the Figure Jupiter makes in the first Iliaa\ no more
Charming than that of Venus in the first Aineid.
*H, K<u tvav'fnaiv W otppbai vtvet Kpoi'i'wr,
'Apfipoaiai o' una \ul-ai iirtppwoavTO dvaKToc
Kpproc air' q.0avdrow' fuyav 5' i\i\i^iv'O\v^-K0V.
Dixit dj avertens rosed cermet refulsit :
Ambrosiaque coma divinum vertice odorem
Spir avert '.* Pedes vestis defluxit ad imos :
Et vera inccssu patuit Dea
Homer's Persons are most of them God-like and Terrible ;
Virgil has scarce admitted any into his Poem, who are not
Beautiful, and has taken particular Care to make his Heroe so.
lumenque juventa
Purpureum, et lectos oculis afflavit Aonoirs.

In a Word, Homer fills his Readers with Sublime Ideas, and, I

believe, has raised the Imagination of all the good Poets that
have come after him. I shall only instance Horace, who
immediately takes Fire at the first Hint of any Passage in the
Iliad or Odyssey, and always rises above himself, when he has
Homer in his View. Virgil has drawn together, into his sEneid,
all the pleasing Scenes his Subject is capable of admitting,
a,ud in his Georgics has given us a Collection of the most
delightful Landskips that can be made out of Fields and
Woods, Herds of Cattle, and Swarms of Bees.
Ovid, in his Metamorphoses, has shewn us how the Imagin
ation may be affected by what is Strange. He describes a
Miracle in every Story, and always gives us the Sight of some
new Creature at the end of it. His Art consists chiefly in well-
timing his Description, before the first Shape is quite worn off,
a,nd the new one perfectly finished \ so that he every where
eptertains us with something we never saw before, and shews
Monster after Monster, to the end of the Metamorphoses.
4 THE SPECTATOR.
If I were to name a Poet that is a perfect Master in all these
Arts of working on the Imagination, I
think Milton may pass
for one : And if his Paradise Lost falls short of the ALncid or
Iliad in this respect, it proceeds rather from the Fault of the
Language in which it is written, than from any Defect of
Genius in the Author. So Divine a Poem in English, is like a
stately Palace built of Brick, where one may see Architecture
in as great a Perfection as in one of Marble, tho' the Materials
are of a coarser Nature. But to consider it only as it regards
our present Subject : What can be conceived greater than
the Battel of Angels, the Majesty of Messiah, the Stature and
Behaviour of .Satan and his Peers ? What more beautiful than
Pandcemonium, Paradise, Heaven, Angels, Adam and Eve 7
What more strange, than the Creation of the World, the several
Metamorphoses of the fallen Angels, and the surprising Ad
ventures their Leader meets with in his Search after Paradise ?
No other Subject could have furnished a Poet with Scenes so
proper to strike the Imagination, as no other Poet could have
painted those Scenes in more strong and lively Colours. O.

[ Advertisement :
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' is under an Information from
the Attorney General, in Humble Submis-
'

....
sion and Duty to her Majesty the said Undertaking is laid down, and
'
Attendance is this Day given in order to repay such Sums as have
'
been paid into the said Table without Deduction.']

No. 418.] Monday, June 30, 1712. [Addison.

feral et rubus asper amomum. Virg.

Pleasures of these Secondary Views of the Imagination,

THE are of a wider and more Universal Nature than those it
has when joined with Sight ; for not only what is Great, Strange
or Beautiful, but any Thing that is Disagreeable when looked
upon, pleases us in an apt Description. Here, therefore, we
must enquire after a new Principle of Pleasure, which is nothing
else but the Action of the Mind, which compares the Ideas that
arise from Words, with the Ideas that arise from the Objects
themselves ; and why this Operation of the Mind is attended
with so much Pleasure, we have before considered. For this
Reason therefore, the Description of a Dunghill is pleasing to
the Imagination, if the Image be represented to our Minds by
suitable Expressions ; tho' perhaps, this may be more properly
called the Pleasure of the Understanding than of the Fancy,
because we are not so much delighted with the Image that is
 THE SPECTATOR. 5

contained in the Description, as with the Aptness of the

Description to excite the Image.
But if the Description of what is Little, Common, or
Deformed, be acceptable to the Imagination, the Description
of what is Great, Surprising or Beautiful, is much more so;
because here we are not only delighted with comparing the
Representation with the Original, but are highly pleased with
the Original it self. I
Most Readers, believe, are more charmed
with Milton's Description of Paradise, than of Hell ; they are
both, perhaps, equally perfect in their Kind, but in the one the
Brimstone and Sulphur are not so refreshing to the Imagination,
as the Beds of Flowers and the Wilderness of Sweets in the
other.
There is yet another Circumstance which recommends a
Description more than all the rest, and that is if it represents
to us such Objects as are apt to raise a secret Ferment in the
Mind of the Reader, and to work, with Violence, upon his
Passions. For, in this Case, we are at once wanned and )
enlightened, so that the Pleasure becomes more Universal,
and is several ways qualified to entertain us. Thus in Painting,
it is pleasant to look on the Picture of any Face, where the
Resemblance is hit, but the Pleasure increases, if it be the
Picture of a Face that is Beautiful, and is still greater, if the
Beauty be softened with an Air of Melancholy or Sorrow.
The two leading Passions which the more serious Parts of
Poetry endeavour to stir up in us, are Terror and Pity. And
here, by the way, one would wonder how it comes to pass, that
such Passions as are very unpleasant at all other times, are very
agreeable when excited by proper Descriptions. It is not
strange, that we should take Delight in such Passions as are
apt to produce Hope, Joy, Admiration, Love, or the like
Emotions in us, because they never rise in the Mind without
an inward Pleasure which attends them. But how comes it
to pass, that we should take delight in being terrified or
dejected by a Description, when we find so much Uneasiness
in the Fear or Grief [which1] we receive from any other
Occasion ?
If we consider, therefore, the Nature of this Pleasure, we
shall find that it does not arise so properly from the Description
of what is terrible, as from the Reflection we make on our
selves at the time of reading When we look on such hideous
it.

Objects, we are not a little pleased to think we are in no

Danger of them. We consider them at the same time, as
Dreadful and Harmless; so that the more frightful Appearance
1

[that]
B
 6 THE SPECTATOR.
they make, the greater is the Pleasure we receive from the
Sense of our own Safety. In short, we look upon the Terrors
of a Description, with the same Curiosity and Satisfaction that
we survey a dead Monster.
-luforme cadaver
Protrahitur, ncqueunt expleri corda tuendo
Terribiles oculos : nultum, villosaque satis
Pectora semiferi, atque extinctos faucilnts ignes. Virg.
It is for the same Reason that we are delighted with the
reflecting upon Dangers that are past, or in looking on a
Precipice at a distance, which would fill us with a different
kind of Horror, if we saw it hanging over our Heads.
. In the like manner, when we read of Torments, Wounds,
Deaths, and the like dismal Accidents, our Pleasure does not flow
so properly from the Grief which such melancholy Descriptions
| give us, as from the secret Comparison which we make between

'
;our selves and the Person [who l] suffers. Such Representations
teach us to set a just Value upon our own Condition, and
make us prize our good Fortune, which exempts us from the
This kind of Pleasure as
is,

like Calamities. however, such

we are not capable of receiving, when we see a
Person actually

a
lying under the. Tortures that we meet with in a Description

;
because in this case, the Object presses too close upon our
Senses, and bears so hard upon us, that does not give us
it

Time or Leisure to reflect on our selves. Our Thoughts are

so intent upon the Miseries of the Sufferer, that we cannot turn
them upon our own Happiness. Whereas, on the contrary, we
consider the Misfortunes we read in History or Poetry, either
as past, or as fictitious, so that the Reflection upon our selves
rises in us insensibly, and over-bears the Sorrow we conceive
for the Sufferings of the Afflicted.
Put because the Mind of Man requires something more
Matter, than what finds there, and can never meet
in

perfect
it

with any Sight in Nature which sufficiently answers its highest

Ideas of Pleasantness or, in other Words, because the Imagina
;

tion can fancy to self Things more Great, Strange, or Beautiful,

it

than the Eye ever saw, and still sensible of some Defect in
is

what has seen on this account the part of a Poet to

is
it

it
;

humour the Imagination in its own Notions, by mending and

perfecting Nature where he describes Reality, and by adding
a

greater Beauties than are put together in Nature, where he

describes Fiction.
a

He not obliged to attend her in the slow Advances which

is

she makes from one Season to another, or to observe her Con-

1

[that]
 THE SPECTATOR. 1

duct, in the successive Production of Plants and Flowers. He

may draw into his Description all the Beauties of the Spring
and Autumn, and make the whole Year contribute something
to render it the more agreeable. His Rose-trees, Wood-bines,
and Jessamines may flower together, and his Beds be cover'd
at the same time with Lillies, Violets, and Amaranths. His
Soil is not restrained to any particular Sett of Plants, but is
proper either for Oaks or Mirtles, and adapts itself to the Pro
ducts of every Climate. Oranges may grow wild in it ; Myrrh
may be met with in every Hedge, and if he thinks it proper to
have a Grove of Spices, he can quickly command Sun enough
to raise it. If all this will not furnish out an agreeable Scene,
he can make several new Species of Flowers, with richer Scents
and higher Colours than any that grow in the Gardens of
Nature. His Consorts of Birds may be as full and harmonious,
and his Woods as thick and gloomy as he pleases. He is at
no more Expence in a long Vista, than a short one, and can as
easily throw his Cascades from a Precipice of half a Mile high,
as from one of twenty Yards. He has his Choice of the Winds,
and can turn the Course of his Rivers in all the Variety of
Meanders, that are most delightful to the Reader's Imagination.
In a word, he has the modelling of Nature in his own Hands,
and may give her what Charms he pleases, provided he
does not reform her too much, and run into Absurdities, by
endeavouring to excel. O.

No. 419.] Tuesday, July r, 1712. [Addison.

mentis gratissimus Error. Hor.

is a kind of Writing, wherein the Poet quite loses

THERE Sight of Nature, and entertains his Reader's Imagination
with the Characters and Actions of such Persons as have many
of them no Existence, but what he bestows on them. Such
are Fairies, Witches, Magicians, Demons, and departed Spirits.
This Mr. Dryden calls the Fairy Way of Writing, which
is,

indeed, more difficult than any other that depends on the

Poet's Fancy, because he has no Pattern to follow in and
it,

must work altogether out of his own Invention.

There a very odd Turn of Thought required for this sort of
is

Writing, and Poet to succeed in

it,

impossible for who

is
it

has not particular Cast of Fancy, and an Imagination naturally

a

frjlitful,and_suerstitious. Besides this, he ought to be very

j